The sun is like a black and white cookie
and above the lilies dripping on the grass
raindrops and fireflies
desperation as far as the eye can see.
The grinding wheels of garbage barrels,
the cries of domestic animals,
a touch of distant thunder is exhaled
as in a microphone, a sigh no less
than the yellow lamps that dot the close of day.
Dreamers play with engines, liquid sugars, old guitars
unceasing in their never smiling labors
'til enough is added of themselves and they move on
with a hint of satisfaction to the next task
while the seasons change and their children grow
and the living earth murmurs constant song.
It's better than dealing with the people
put inside their lives
so they can learn.
